


Thanksgiving

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Caring Bobby Singer, Life at Bobby's, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Thanksgiving, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 00:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: Dean has plans with Jo for Thanksgiving but gets sick before vacation even starts.





	Thanksgiving

Dean cleared his throat as he waited for the bus to pull out of the school parking lot. A tickle had formed there, in his throat, at the beginning of the day and it had progressed into a constant dry stingy feeling. 

Sam peered at him over the seat between them, big brown eyes staring deep into Dean's face like he could read Dean's mind.

“Quit starin’, you're being creepy,” Dean snapped. Sam turned back around in his seat. 

Dean leaned his head against the cool window, wishing that the bus would hurry up and leave so that he could get home and drink some water. 

It was the last day of school before Thanksgiving break, so it made sense that Dean would start getting sick just as vacation started. He never got sick when he could miss school, only during Christmas or over the summer. 

All the leaves had fallen from the trees and it was so cold in the mornings that there was icy frost on the windows. Snow a few days before had made Dean feel excited for the upcoming holidays even though it was doubtful that his father, John, would be around to celebrate with Dean, Sam, and their uncle Bobby. 

Dean had made plans with his best friend, Jo, for Thanksgiving. Jo’s family always had a huge meal with lots of people every year. She hated it because it was all grown ups who talked about business and boring stuff. This year Jo's mom was allowing her to have Dean over for Thanksgiving, and Dean was ecstatic. Now he just hoped that whatever sickness he was coming down with wouldn't get in the way of his plans. 

xxxxx

After downing three tall glasses of water, Dean shuffled up the stairs to the bedroom he and Sam shared at Bobby's house. His head was starting to ache, along with the rest of his body. He figured that if he just took a rest for a little while he would feel better, and crawled into his bed. 

He woke up to Sam jiggling his shoulder. 

“What?” Dean asked, his voice coming out like a croak. He pushed himself up on one arm and rubbed his eyes. 

“Dinner is ready. Thought you would want to come eat something,” Sam said, watching his older brother closely. 

“Okay, thanks Sammy. I'll be right down.” Dean flopped back down onto his pillow and looked up at the clock on the wall. He had been asleep for almost three hours and if anything he felt worse than he had before he passed out. 

Groaning, Dean pushed himself out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and slowly made his way down to the kitchen. His head was spinning by the time he got there, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest--something that should not be happening considering all he did was walk down 13 steps and sit down again. 

Bobby had made spaghetti for dinner. Sam was already halfway through his plate and Bobby had taken his helping to the library to look over those stupid books he was always reading. Dean pushed some noodles around on his plate but wasn't very hungry. 

Sam slid Dean a glass of water and some tylenol, which he must've grabbed out of the kitchen cabinet while Dean wasn't paying attention. 

“Thanks Sammy,” Dean whispered, downing the pills and sipping at the water. His stomach was starting to feel upset and he really didn't want to throw up. 

Sam seemed satisfied once Dean had taken some medicine and didn't say anything when Dean left the table to go back upstairs without eating a bite of his food. Dean figured he should shower while he was awake, so he peeled off his sweaty shirt and waited for the water to turn warm. While he waited, Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. His face was pale, his eyes glossy and red. He could feel himself shaking and wondered if he had a fever. The thermometer was kept in the kitchen along with the medicine, so he wouldn't find out what his temperature was unless someone brought the thermometer to him. 

Dean wanted to take his time in the shower, but standing for that long was making him dizzy and his legs shaky. He shut off the water and grabbed his towel from the rack by the toilet. As he dried himself off, his vision started to fade green around the edges and he knew he needed to sit down. He managed to wrap his towel around his waist before dropping to the floor. He leaned his back against the tub wall and sat criss cross with his head down near his knees. 

After what felt like an hour, the ringing in his ears stopped and his vision returned to normal. Slowly, Dean stood up and gathered his dirty clothes. He made his was back to his room where he pulled on some gym shorts and crawled back into bed. 

xxxxx

Dean woke the next morning feeling exponentially worse. Sam's bed was empty, but there was a glass of water on Dean's nightstand that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. 

Taking a sip, Dean cautiously sat up so that he could avoid getting dizzy. His nose was completely clogged and his throat stung like a bitch whenever he swallowed. Unable to avoid the inevitable, Dean got out of bed and went down the hall to the bathroom. He had to sit down while he pissed, too dizzy to stand. 

After finishing in the bathroom, Dean decided that he should at least show his face downstairs so that Bobby would know he was alive. 

Sam was lounged on the couch watching some Christmas cartoon. He sat up and made room for Dean as soon as he saw his pale, shaking older brother. 

“You don't look so good,” Sam whispered once Dean was sitting down. 

“Don't feel so good,” Dean responded, slowly pulling his legs up underneath him. He shivered, but was covered up with a blanket moments later. “Thanks Sammy,” Dean sighed, his eyes slipping closed. His throat was hurting him more than he'd like to admit, and a hammering headache had sprung up behind his eyes. 

“You want me to tell Uncle Bobby?” Sam whispered. 

“Tell Uncle Bobby what?” Bobby interrupted, jumping both Sam and Dean out of their skin. 

Sam glanced over at Dean, whose eyes were still shut. 

Bobby followed Sam's gaze and blew out a sigh. “You look like death, boy. When did ya start feeling sick?” He went around the front of the couch and crouched in front of Dean. 

“Yesterday during school,” Dean answered in a whisper as Bobby reached out and palmed Dean's forehead. 

“Jesus, you're burnin up. Sam, go get the med kit, would ya?” 

Dean felt Sam jump off the couch. “Let's lie you back here,” Bobby said softly, pushing a pillow behind Dean's head as he laid down on the couch. He curled into a ball and tried to stop himself from coughing. Of course that didn't work, and the coughing felt like it was ripping his throat apart. 

“Easy, easy. You'll be alright,” Bobby soothed. Sam came back then, carrying the med kit and a glass of water. 

Dean sipped at the water, relishing in the effect it had on his throat. Bobby took the glass away after what seemed like half a second and replaced it with the thermometer. 

“Up over 102. Impressive kid,” Bobby stated. He gave Dean some tylenol and the rest of the water before getting up off the floor. “Yell if ya need anything,” he said as he went back into the library. 

Dean finished the water before leaning back into the pillow and letting his eyes fall shut.

xxxxx

“Dean, wake up.” 

Before Dean opened his eyes he noticed how dry his lips and mouth were, and how painfully his throat and head were pulsing with his heartbeat. He cracked his eyes open and looked belarily up at Bobby, who was leaning over him. 

“Time for more drugs, kiddo.” Bobby handed Dean a few pills and some water. Dean sipped at the water but didn't feel very thirsty. The liquid wasn't moistening his mouth at all, and he couldn't even taste it. “You feeling better or worse?” Bobby asked as he held the thermometer up to Dean's lips. 

“I'd say you're feelin worse, by the looks of this here gadget.” Bobby said once the thermometer had beeped a reading. “ Anything I can get ya?” Bobby ran a soothing hand through Dean's hair a few times.

Dean closed his eyes and wished that Bobby would do that forever, but the finger running stopped. Dean opened his eyes again. “Can I still go to Jo's?” 

Bobby huffed, a smirk breaking out across his face. “Let's see how you're doing tomorrow before we make any decisions, okay?” 

Dean nodded and closed his eyes again. He was so exhausted that sleep was already tugging at him again. 

xxxxx

The next morning, Dean awoke feeling a little better than he had when he went to sleep. His nose was still plugged, but the rest of him felt pretty okay. He sat up and got out of bed, slowly testing his balance. So far so good. Making his way to the bathroom took some time, but after pissing and brushing his teeth he was used to standing again and made his way downstairs with little trouble. 

Sam was on the couch again, and again made room for Dean to sit. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, concern furrowed in his brow. 

“I feel fine, Sammy,” Dean said. Well, he tried to say it. It came out as a whispery squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again, but it was no use. He had no voice. 

“How’re ya feelin, kiddo?” Bobby asked, carrying a plate with toast and a cup of what looked like tea.

“Much better, actually,” Dean whispered, taking Bobby's offering. 

“You lose your voice?” Bobby questioned, palming Dean's forehead. 

Dean nodded and took a sip of the tea. It felt nice on his scratchy throat.

“You're still too warm,” Bobby stated. 

“Can I go to Jo's anyway? Please? I'll call if I feel worse, I promise,” Dean begged in a harsh whisper. 

Bobby stood and stared at Dean before he spoke. “Fine. But, if you feel worse at all you need to let me know, and you need to call Jo to make sure her mom is okay with you being a little sick still. Don't wanna upset her folks,” Bobby said. 

Dean grinned from ear to ear as he nodded in agreement. Bobby went back to his desk while Dean ate his toast and watched the Thanksgiving day parade with Sam. 

xxxxx

Hopping down out of Bobby's truck, Dean turned and waved to Bobby. Bobby waved back and waited for Dean to get inside Jo's house before driving away. 

“Hey, you feeling better?” Jo asked as she led Dean into the kitchen. Her mom, Ellen, was hustling about trying to organize everything for dinner. 

Dean nodded and set the cookies he had made, with Sam's help, on the counter by a few pies that had been baked. He followed Jo down to the basement where Jo kept her PS3 and they sat on the old couch to play a few rounds before dinner was served. 

Dean coughed harshly into his elbow and grimaced at the taste of the gunk he'd coughed up. 

The tickle that was in the back of his throat wouldn't go away, so he kept coughing. Jo paused the game and slammed him on the back a few times, but nothing seemed to help. 

Dean stood up and rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom. His coughing was setting off his gag reflex and he really didn't want to puke all over Jo's basement.

He tried sipping some water from the faucet, but that only made the feeling worse, and before he knew it, Dean was throwing up his breakfast. The puking made the coughing stop, for whatever reason, and Dean sat back on the floor, leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath. 

After a few minutes, Dean stood up and flushed the toilet. He washed his hands and rinsed out his mouth, and went to find Jo. She was waiting for him outside the bathroom door. 

“You okay?” she asked, her eyes full of concern. 

“Yeah, just coughed some gross stuff up and I wanted to spit it out,” Dean lied through a whisper. 

Jo looked like she didn't quite believe him, but led the way back to the basement. 

Dinner was delicious and Dean was fascinated by the people Jo's mom had invited. He spent most of the time listening to conversations that he couldn't quite grasp the focus of and watching how the people interacted with each other. Jo told him they were all hunters, but he wasn't sure what kind. None of them were dressed in blazing orange or camouflage.

When Dean cleared his plate, Ellen stopped him in the kitchen. “You're looking pretty flushed. You okay?” Ellen reached her hand out and felt his forehead before he could respond. “Pretty warm. Here,” Ellen said, pulling a bottle of tylenol down from over the fridge. She gave him a dose and a glass of water. He took the pills and drank the rest of his water, hoping to avoid another coughing incident. 

“Thanks,” Dean whispered, setting the glass by the sink. He followed her back out into the dining room for dessert. 

xxxxx

Ellen drove Dean home after dessert was finished. She followed him into Bobby's house and went into the library. Dean crashed into the couch, way more exhausted than he should've been. He listened to Ellen talking with Bobby in the other room. 

“How is he?” Bobby asked. 

“I gave him some tylenol around 5, but I don't think it did a whole lot. Jo told me she heard him vomit before we ate. Just a heads up,” Ellen told Bobby. 

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course Jo tattled on him. He smiled at Ellen as she left, waiting for Bobby to come scold him for staying even though he felt sick. 

Instead, Bobby sat next to him on the couch and handed him a blanket. He placed a pillow on his lap and patted it so that Dean would lay his head down. 

“Call me next time, okay kiddo?” Bobby said gently. He carded his finger through Dean's hair steadily. 

“I didn't feel sick, just coughed so much it made me puke.” Dean's voice was still a harsh whisper. “Where's Sammy?” 

“He’s doing some homework upstairs,” Bobby answered. Dean made to get up, but Bobby held him back. “You stay here. Rest. Try and get some sleep,” Bobby said. 

Dean snuggled into the blanket and let Bobby's fingers through his hair lull him to sleep.


End file.
